I See Fire
by TheSecondBestBed
Summary: CH 1: My father insists that becoming a knight is important to the family line, but he must be blind; he cannot see that we have no family to speak of. No name to rightly uphold. We are condemned no matter what.
1. Chapter 1

**I See Fire**

 **Chapter One**

* * *

The flames circle hypnotically, separate briefly, then rejoin one another in their vicious dance. My ears are alert to the groaning wood and crying stone, numbing the string of curses my father lets out beside me. My cheeks feel the heat of the embers, reminding me that I am dangerously closer than I should be - but for all of my observations, for all of my active senses, I still do not move.

I stand completely still and I watch. Merely watch.

I feel like a moth stupefied by the light; there is something eerily beautiful about the way it glows brightly against the night sky, like a flag announcing a great army. And yet for all of the beauty and warmth in front of me, I find myself grieving. I know this because my mouth is pulled down into a tight frown, and there is this strange aching in my chest that I cannot place. And I still do not move, not even when I feel the stinging slap of my father's hand on the back of my head, or his words urging me to help him as he pours a bucket of water onto the burning building. It is for nothing. The building is completely engulfed.

Normally I am very obedient, for I do not like to rile father's temper. He can be incredibly frightening when he is cross much like he is now; still, I cannot find it in me to obey him. There is a small part of myself that screams from within, reminding me that he needs me now more than ever before. I feel my fingers twitch as if trying to anticipate the reasoning behind my delayed reaction, almost questioning my sanity. I clench them tightly into a fist. I silence them.

It is my turn now to do as I wish - even if it is for the briefest of moments - and I choose to simply watch. Watch and frown and do nothing else except wallow in that corner of self pity that I often find myself visiting. The same place to the side of my mind where I lay down the fragment memories of my mother, and wonder why I was never good enough for her; there where I remember that I cannot play with the other children because their parents forbid it, and where I cannot pretend that I am not hurt by the insults that they call me as I walk past them, because I am supposedly 'too young' to understand the meaning of the word 'bastard child'; it is the place in which I know that I have been forsaken all because of a name that I did not choose for myself.

Breech.

It is an incurable plague. One strong enough to stir the disgust within people's hearts, to judge me before I have an opportunity to open my mouth. That is why I choose to be quiet, as it saves me the effort of trying. My meekness irritates my father, I know, and often times I hear his repeating voice in my head as he lectures me about the importance of first impressions. How a businessman should give an air of confidence so that his customers respect him, and be strict enough so his workers fear him. I do not want to be feared though, I want to be loved. I want to be loved so badly that I am ashamed to admit that degree of need to myself; I know that most boys should not lay awake late at night imaging what it would be like to bask in other's approval, but I do. I do it far more often than I wish. It is a guilty pleasure I divulge in, but would never share aloud...especially with my father. Instead I entertain him and put on my best compliant face, and attend those boring page sessions even though I have little interest in becoming a knight. My father insists that becoming a knight is important (there is that word again) to the family line, but he must be blind; he cannot see that we have no family to speak of. No name to rightly uphold.

We are condemned no matter what.

Silently, in that place in my head, I curse him because his soul is stubborn. I observe him now as he incessantly attempts to douse the fire, growing angrier with each failed attempt. There is a rigidness in him that I cannot pass; every so often I wonder what I am doing wrong, because the other boys' father's seem to enjoy their company, and their boys are not that pleasant to be around; the other boys' father's take pride in their sons, but their sons tend to treat others cruelly. Yet that strange bond remains, and to me it feels foreign. I try to think of what my what it is that my father and I have, to find a word that will soothe the itch on my tongue, but nothing comforting rises to the occasion. We are almost like strangers - no - like men of contract; I am his knave and he is my thane. We seem to discuss nothing but trades, and prices, and possible new routes, and the inevitable outcome of my future and what it is costing him.

He can be so very blunt about life. I do not think he has ever entertained a child-like wonder in either of us; so cold and so calculating and he - he is the reason we stand here now, watching our home burn to ashes before our very eyes. Because he cannot control that serpent tongue of his that strikes whenever possible, or the loudness of his bark when he throws harsh commands at his sailors, or those claws of his that snatch what he wants when he wants it. He is the reason the others have shown us this blatant sign of hate, and if our name is an incurable plague then my father is the demon that spreads it.

Yet I persist on calling him father.

The title that always seems so out-of-place is also the one that I cling to...because...because...there is no easy answer. I try not to think too hard about it now; the smoke from the flames is making me dizzy enough. I sit down instead, for my legs feel as if I have two barrels laying on them and I cannot stand any longer. I only choose to watch because there is nothing I can do; my home was lost before I found it. And although outside I remain calm, there is an anger within me that I have chosen to boil, to let it rise into my very being until it drowns the prior feelings of grief and self-pity. For although my bloodline may have begun with betrayers, it is I that must face the sharp end of the sword for it; my father parades about with his wicked deeds, but it is I who must lose everything and clean the ashes. I now know the name for the sensation in my chest, and it is indignation. Indignation for every moment where I have had to pay for sins I did not commit, and face trial to every person who wanted to act as a judge. There is something like a humorless chuckle that escapes my throat, because I have now gained another realization - that my father may be right about something after all.

I do not need the approval of these morons, these _lesser beings._

I am Gunther Breech, and if they cannot learn to love me, then I shall teach them to fear me.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hello Everyone!**_

 _ **I'm very excited to finally write a story for Jane and The Dragon since I'm in love with this show now (especially Gunther~), and want to be an active part of this fandom. I've already read so many great ffs and I don't know if I'll be able to match them, but I certainly want to throw my hat in here. This particular little story is loosely based on I See Fire by Ed Sheeran, and takes place over the course of Gunther's life; it'll be short, I'm thinking five chapters at most. In this chapter, Gunther is about 10-12 years old, and he's watching his home burn down to the ground after some villagers set it aflame while he and Magnus were away (I'm sorry if this topic was vague while reading the story).**_

 _ **Please let me know if you liked it or if you found it to be horrible [:'D] constructive criticism is always welcome! Reviews in general are loved and are pretty much my only source of writing muse.**_

 _ **Til next time!**_

 _ **~TS2B**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I See Fire**

 **Chapter Two**

* * *

She is not difficult to miss from afar, that fire hair of hers is like a warning signal to others that she is present. So distinctly her own, not even her father's red hair can compare to the massive mane she wears; it is everywhere all at once, begging for heads to turn and eyes to stare. I sometimes find myself susceptible to its call, watching it go about when she walks; naturally I frown because it is a tangled mess, and not at all ladylike, and worse of all it itches when it brushes against my face during combat - and I do not like to know what Jane's hair feels like against my skin. It is quite a grotesque experience.

Her voice is another warning, and one I hear often. High-pitched, loud, and heavy with an undertone of holiness that could make one ill, every word she speaks is like a passage from a testament I do not want to read. _'Sir Theodore, did you know...?'_ she would begin one moment, or _'Sir Theodore, that reminds me of...'_ and would continue on until my eyes are aching from rolling about in my head.

And I shall not even begin to discuss that horrid laughter of hers.

I despise her, yet we are stuck to one another by some cruel turn of fate. My own life is mocking me, for when I believe that my situation could not get any more pathetic, there it was - becoming more pathetic! The one whom I would one day have my life dependent upon is a woman! Well she was really more like a very boyish-girl from the looks of her thin, sturdy figure - but a woman of all things! My chances of becoming a well-renowned knight diminish with every petty syllable that escapes her lips. But my hope is not completely crushed, or so I tell myself to heighten my spirits; I shall just have to work harder for the both of us. Picking up the weight of her natural, feminine weaknesses would prove to be another merit for me if I am able to accomplish such a task

Of course, nothing is that simple with Jane. She has her own plans, and they are not at all aligned with mine. She fights me every step of the way...and again I despise her for it. Therefore, I figure that if she plans to make my dreams more difficult to achieve, it would only be justifiable that I do the same to hers.

"Perchance Jane" I interrupt one morning when she is being particularly nettlesome "would you happen to know what the Knight's Code of Honor claims regarding the start of a lady's training? I cannot remember if it is before her curtsying lesson or after the dressing rehearsal." The current look of her pinched face is always far more satisfying than the last, and my echoed laughter only increases with the deepening flush on her cheeks. Most importantly, I also receive what I was awaiting - her silence. Her mouth draws up in a tight line, and from the look in her eyes I can tell that she is thinking of a witty reply, but for once she comes up short. Her tresses bounce with the shake of her head, and I watch them trail behind her as she stomps away.

I take a moment to cherish my triumph.

Alas, as with every one of my victories...there is always a price to pay afterward. Her revenge comes later in the practice field, and it is brought down upon me quickly and with lethal intent. Like with anything Jane does, she does this act passionately; she is close enough so that I can spot the trails of sweat slide down her brow, notice the details of her face which are twisted in concentration and fury, and feel every blow of her stave vibrate through mine. There is nothing in her that is withholding from me in this very moment. My arms shake and I know that it is more than just her force that has them in such an uneasy state - it is also a hint of fear. I fear Jane's aggression and while I wish to believe that, that is something she cannot sense, I know my facial expression gives me away. I am struggling; my breath is ragged.

 _'Bat bladders! I should be stronger than her. I should be better. I am male and she is nothing more than a wench in squire's clothing!'_

My new found aggravation provides me the boost I need to send her backwards...not far, but enough that I can take a moment to breathe. Her stave has been to me what Smithy's hammer is to stubborn metal, unrelenting in its attempt to make me bend. From what I can tell, she is breathing heavily as well, but her eyes never leave mine; she is far from giving up.

"Come now Jane" I manage to huff between breaths "What would Sir Theodore say if he saw you behaving in such an un-knightly manner towards a fellow apprentice?" This gets under her skin I know; Sir Theodore has chastised her before on her aggressive fighting methods, something about not thinking with the mind or whatever it is he goes on about for hours. I simply figure that if I cannot stunt her physically, I can do so emotionally, and this particular topic happens to be one of my favorites. "Tsk-tsk" she exhales so abruptly it almost sounds like a growl. "I am sure he would be most displeased by your actions."

We begin to circle one another again, our slow rhythm finding its way into our feet so that we are in sync. My hands tighten their firm grip around my stave, and I manage what I can of a smile. "I shall have to be sure to bring up the matter with him for proper correction, seeing as you cannot learn to control yourself even after several warnings."

"How humorous" she speaks up "I was about recommend the same action in regards to you Gunther, seeing as you cannot learn to fight even after several of my beatings."

Reflexively I scowl, realizing that sharp tongue of hers has rediscovered its home back inside her mouth. I strike first, my movement is quick and my blow is powerful enough to make her stave dance under the pressure - but Jane, Jane is quicker and worse yet she is in control. Her green eyes flash with a light of coyness for she has seen her opening and she takes it, fluidly jabbing my side with the other end of her weapon; the sudden contact forces my body to violently sway, my legs try to find their balance again, but they cannot do it in time. Jane's second strike comes with little mercy, and it is while I am stumbling backwards that I scorn myself yet again for falling for my own tricks. She had regained her advantage the moment I lost myself to her words, and I begin to wonder if she had planned it all along. The contact with the ground is no more pleasant. Before I can raise my head to assess the damage, her stave is already on my neck, teasing my skin with its harsh material.

"Yield."

The demand is a double-edged sword, and this time it is against my favor. I do not relent so easily, at least not before taking a moment to attack her with my glare; it is my final act of defiance towards her. As if I cannot win at all, Jane appears unfazed by my steely look, managing one of her own instead; it bothers me to no end that I am forced to examine her details again in such a way. Her emerald eyes are eerily clear in the light of day, her lips are trapped somewhere between a smirk and a disapproving frown, and I wonder if she realizes how much she looks like Lady Turnkey when she does this. But it is her hair - that accursed hair of hers that troubles me the most, because like always, it is moving even with this stillness between us. A rebellious flame that refuses to be tamed and that mocks me even now, for it alerts others that I am lying in defeat underneath a woman; a beacon of my failure.

"Yield" I finally murmur, and this time she does make her smirk more distinguishable as she removes the weapon from my neck to take a step back.

"Champion spar Gunther" is all she says as she extends her hand for me to grab - and all I can think about, as I take said hand, is cutting off her hair to see if she would still smile so pridefully.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I swear the nickering between Jane and Gunther is always fun to write!**_

 _ **Oh and don't worry, there's no maliciousness behind Gunther's last thought, it's just him being salty like always! He's nothing but a drama queen. ;)**_

 _ **I swear these chapters seemed a lot longer when I was writing them LOL, but now looking at them they're quite short. Sorry about that.**_

 _ **Please R &R, it's always appreciated!**_

 _ **~TS2B**_


	3. Chapter 3

**I See Fire**

 **Chapter Three**

* * *

My eyes have quit their vain search for a light in the sky, as they have been met with too much disappointment to continue. I have learned that no comfort can be found in this field where the smoke has risen to cover all traces of a bright dawn; here where the only warmth given is by the dying embers and charred remains. Everything around me is familiar yet completely unrecognizable. It is as if I remember passing by this meadow five moon's ago, dragging my heels along this very same grass, but now it feels as if I only dreamt of doing that. It must have been some other field, one that was used for livestock to graze in and children to play through; no, I could not have destroyed that land. I could not have slain countless men on the very same grass I lied merrily in once. That place and this one are utterly different, everything has been scorched by the fire here.

The one I have created.

I pretend I do not know that a short distance from here lies a small village which houses an Inn keeper who plays the lute beautifully, and that we once sat on the benches hearing her play as we sang along in our boisterous fashion. These details must be from another time, because now the only noise that reaches my ears are the groans and aches of dying men, their bodies lying not even feet away from me; I know that some of those men are my comrades, others my enemy, but it is difficult to tell when their bodies are all mangled together in such a way. And that does not seem right...but I am in no mood to contemplate such sad thoughts any further. I have thought too much already, so I set any uneasiness aside and continue with my previous task.

It is simple enough, and with only two strokes more I manage to wipe away the last traces of blood from my sword's edge. In the dark it shimmers a faint pink hue, reminding me of the garments I used to wear as a boy; I never knew I would grow such a distaste for the color. Then again I never knew I would be standing over dying soldiers, thrusting my sword into their writhing bodies to assure their deaths are legitimate. My perception of knighthood was very different then, extremely glamorized by fairytales and gossip. I know better now.

I sheath my sword, ending my role as both an executioner and an angel of mercy; my current task, (I have found that I tend to become rather lost without one) is to find her. I know that she is safe, and that fact alone is what keeps my breathing steady and my head aligned, but now I feel that I _need_ her _beside_ me. I feel stronger with her beside me. Jane has been after all, my other half in battle: the eyes on my back, the support in my knees, my shield, my sword. She has been all that and more, and I in return have offered the same service. How foolish I was as a child to believe that a woman was incapable of protecting me, when Jane has done so more times than I can count! War...war has always brought us closer together; the petty arguments and sidelong glares are tossed aside, and in those moments we are like one. Perfectly aligned in body and mind. I now know the meaning behind Sir Theodore's sermons, about what it is like to depend on someone else wholly, to have your life contingent upon trust and brotherhood...and possibly... _no_...no, only that.

Sir Theodore. His name brings back a sharpened stab in my chest, tears spring to my eyes although I believed it was impossible; I thought I was all out of those pesky things. Through sheer will I hold them back, because there is a guilt there that reminds me that these are not my tears to cry - - that it is my turn to be strong for her. I have had my moment of grief all those years ago when Sir Ivon passed. So if she decides now that she needs me, then I will be there for her as a pillar to lean on. I cannot show weakness now.

My breath catches in my throat the moment I see her. She is standing in the same position she was in before I left, with her body erect while her hands wrap around her sword's pommel elegantly. The dragon's blade is as clear as day, shining brightly against the dark soil it is plunged into - - she insisted on cleaning it. She would not take no for an answer. There is a regalness in the way her feet plant perfectly onto the ground despite the uneven terrain; if it were not for her eyes, one could say she is at peace. Yes...it is her eyes that give her away. For Jane's head looks upward, her pale neck a heavy contrast to the filth and sweat of war that runs across it, and her eyes stare straight into the sky with an unparalleled intensity. One would think she could see past the black smoke and straight into heaven. A feeling much like fear begins to stir inside of me. The amount of fury that writhes within those orbs is unsettling, and I fear that if I do not intervene she may lose herself within it.

She does not turn when I call out her name, but upon feeling my hand on her shoulder she snaps out of whatever eerie trance she was in. From up close I can see the streaks where old tears have passed down her face, and if it were not for her speaking up I would have crushed her in an immediate embrace.

"Gunther..." her eyes manage to look at me and through me at the same time "...my apologies I did not - - that is to say I was - - "

"No worries Jane. I merely came to inform you that we will be ready to depart for Kippernia in two hours time." Inwardly I groan, because my words are there to fill up space and nothing else. These words offer her no solace. _'Why do I find it so difficult to say what I want to say?'_ She continues to look at me with hollow eyes before turning back to the body lying on the ground beside her; it is completely covered by a cloak she wore earlier today, but I know the face that lies underneath it. I know it all too well.

"Yes, the king will be pleased to hear of our victory. The causalities were small."

"Jane - - "

"I presume you have already rallied the remaining troops?" I nod and she takes a moment to sheath her sword "Champion work Gunther, I only wish I could have been of more help."

Her voice is polite and detached, like the kind one uses when speaking to a stranger. But I am no stranger to Jane, at least I would like to believe as much. The sudden uncertainty stings somewhere inside of me, and my breath hitches for a second time. She turns to leave, but I cannot let her go, not without knowing that I have attempted to offer her so much more than this; not after the countless hours Jane had spent beside me during Sir Ivon's death, even when I had pushed her away and thrown harsh words at her, she never lost her patience with me. She always made herself ready to me until I found it within myself to let her in...if only minutely. My hands act on their own accord and grab for hers.

"You did everything you could Jane." She does not turn to look at me, but she does not pull away either. "There was nothing more you could have done to protect him, there was nothing I could have done either. Sir Theodore...I know he was proud of your efforts, not just in the battlefield, but as a knight as well. He died an honorable man."

Her head whips in my direction, and instantly I regret my actions because her eyes are brimmed with tears; angry, heavy, tears no less that leave the rest of her face red and pinched. Her mouth trembles open as if she is going to insult me, but it does not have the strength to continue and so it shuts again, voiceless.

"Jane listen to me" my hands are grabbing at her shoulders now; I cannot tell if it is her that is shaking or me "you fought admirably. You have always given your best to the king, to Sir Theodore - - to us" _to me_ , but I do not say that aloud "you must not blame yourself for this."

Her eyes are looking at me now, searching through mine in hopes of finding something, though I am not sure what. I know these words are not enough; she shall still feel pain for many days to come, but that is to be expected. Wounds such as these need time. She does not speak, instead her eyes trail to her mentor's body once again.

"I did not get to say goodbye..." her voice is a soft rasp "...it was over so soon, almost instantly for him."

We stand in silence, my hands falling to my sides; I find it difficult to take my eyes off of her, but reluctantly I do so, so that I can see what she sees. It does not take long for me to walk over to the spot where he lies and kneel beside his feet. It does not get any easier to look at him, but I keep on a steel mask of an expression.

"Help me carry him." My voice is a contrast to hers, steady and sure. "He shall have a proper burial in Kippernia, outside of the castle walls by the poppy field. I find that place to be calming when I visit, I think he would quite fancy it." When she does not move, I flash her a sympathetic smile. "Unless you object?" Her red curls shake with the movement of her head, her lips are squeezed in a tight line as she gingerly wraps her arms around the top half of the body. From here I can still note the blotchiness of her face, the way her bottom lip trembles, and how her eyes give way to silent tears despite her efforts in keeping them in.

She has never looked so strong to me before.

We carry Sir Theodore in silence, the smell of burning wood filling our nostrils. I look up at the sky in search of light, but again I find none.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Not much to say for this one, except that it was a lot of fun to write!**_

 _ **I might (might being key here) do a partner ff from Jane's perspective, just because I really wanted to write out that bit about Sir Ivon's death and that Janther bonding. I can't help but to be a bit curious myself, but time may not allow me to do so. :(**_

 _ **I really want to thank everyone who has reviewed! You've really made my day! Thanks so much for your support.**_

 _ **~TS2B**_


	4. Chapter 4

**I See Fire**

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

If there was ever a positive trait of mine that I truly believed in (for there were many positive traits I openly shared with others, but rare were those I actually believed I acquired), it would be my inability to turn down a bet. Though many would call that stubbornness, I tend to think of it in a more positive light; if anything I would say I am rather adventurous, _resilient_ even.

When I was but ten I was able to pluck the hair of a mule's tail on a dare, it took several attempts-and yes I may have a broken an arm in the process-but it was possibly the sweetest victory of my youth. Another time Sir Ivon bet me a bag of silver, and his key to the royal privy if I won a drinking match against him using his infamous Scottish rum; the next morning I was told that I had won, though I could not actually remember the event myself.

Thus, I find it extremely difficult to accept, as I look at her from afar while she tends to her mare, that I have surrendered. That I have lost this long-standing bet against myself to repress it as much as I could, because this notion has subjugated me entirely.

I am in love with Jane Turnkey.

The revelation is both freeing and overwhelming at once; it is something of a catalyst as well, as it causes me to stare at her so intently that she notices my attention. I shoot her a disgusted expression in turn, trying to mask whatever it was that may have shone through, and she responds with a roll of her eyes. I take this as an invitation of course, and make my way towards her with something of a spring in my step and a breath caught in my throat.

My heart beats rapidly, _knowingly_.

As I meet her by the stables, my hand snatches an apple she was reaching for, a coy grin playing my lips; annoying Jane is one of my simplest pleasures. Jane does not look so pleased, her hand extending expectantly; I act the naive fool, pretending not to know what she wants from me.

"This?" I gesture to the apple with my free hand.

"Gunther" her tone is a warning, but I can tell there is a smile she is abating.

"Well since you asked so nicely" I hold the apple near enough for her to grab, and she falls for it. As soon as Jane makes a reach for it I pull it up and out of reach.

"Gunther!" Jane protests, clearly nettled by my playing, though it does not stop her from jumping and jabbing at me to get what she wants. Typical Turnkey behaviour. "Honestly, are we not too old for these childish games?" she groans. "When will you learn to grow up, you overfed warthog?"

That was a new favorite of hers, and though normally it would have riled me up, I chose to laugh instead. I was glad, more than that actually, but I could not properly express the gratitude I felt in my heart at seeing Jane this way again. It had been a year and seven months' time since Sir Theodore's passing, and for the first time in a long time Jane had finally felt like...herself. She was as stubborn as ever now, with a renewed vigor in her knightly duties; she was a force to be reckoned with, a fact that the other knights in Kippernia were just now realizing. My grin grew as she nearly smacked the apple from my hand. From afar I could see Smithy (now built like a horse himself with years of strenuous effort) shake his head at us.

"Whoa! You see this Smithy? _Some_ people just do not know what self control is. Quite humiliating Jane, to be jumping about like a wild stallion" my eyes locking onto hers, I realize a flush of anger forming on her cheeks; she turns around and gives Smithy a face I could not see, but it was enough to make him smile before she turns her attention back to me. "If you ask me" I continue unfazed "you need to be broken in. Perhaps I could assist with that?"

If Jane's cheeks appeared pink before, the comment made her entire face turn such a bright red that I believe in that moment she had defeated all of Rake's tomatoes in the garden. I laughed until my sides ached.

"Really Gunther? Would you like to repeat that with the shaft of my sword halfway down your throat?"

Jane, absolutely still until that moment, makes one last reach for the fruit (without as much as a single hop this time). In the process of holding herself still, she leans her hand against my form, running it upward from my chest, then wrapping it around my neck as she tries to pull me down-well at least that is what I _believe_ her intention was, but I did not let her finish the motion. The mere trail her hand left on my chest was singeing, and my free hand came down much quicker than I expected to stop hers by the wrist. My expression grimaces, albeit for a completely other reason that Jane might have assumed. With equal quickness, I place the apple in her hand, and take a half-step back.

Jane uses the opportunity to land a not-so-gentle punch on my shoulder. "Try that again and I will be forced to embarrass you on the training field in front of all the squires" she promises, tossing the apple between her hands.

My senses were still whirling from the unintentional caress I had received, and so it takes me a moment of recovery to try and think of something witty; had I lasted a second longer Jane might have noted the wavering in my tone. "Calm yourself Jane, you know I would much rather court the village ox before I lay hands on you. I think many self-respectable men would agree." From the corner of my eye I see Smithy still standing there, shooting me a look that knew too much for my own comfort. I hear Jane mumble something in that familiar tone she uses whenever her tongue is spitting venom, though my mind is truly preoccupied with him. Has he noticed something that Jane had not?

I needed to leave.

"Well-" I said interrupting her "I have to be on my way, important business to take care of today."

"What business?" Even the mere idea that I could have 'business' to tend to made Jane's nose crinkle in amusement. Even after all these years she never truly took me too seriously; a fact I both found ill-disposing and charming.

" _Business_ Jane, you would not understand" my voice is more even now, faking a sense of importance; without giving her the chance to rebuttal, I turn and give haste in whatever direction I just happen to be facing. From behind me I can hear Jane's words mumble "I will never understand his strange behavior..."

Ironically enough, I was just beginning to understand it myself.

I feel a certain level of shame mixed with elation as I patrol the outer castle walls on horseback. Although I know I should be keeping my mind sharp for any intruders lurking in the darkness, I just cannot not stop thinking about Jane's touch. The way her fingers skirted along my frame left an aching in me. There had been touches between us before, though I suppose that is bound to happen when the woman you love is also your fellow knight. Jane and I had wrestled, and pushed, and pulled, and collided heads so often I am surprised we do not read each other's minds by now. We have had to carry one another out of perilous situations, and many times we have slept in close quarters, huddled together under some shamble of a roof when the rainfall is too harsh for any mere man. Moments such as that never bothered me, Jane was my partner first and foremost, in that, there was honor between us.

Yet sometimes... _sometimes_ , there was a little something more. A bump of the knees that lasted a moment too long, a hand not taken away after an accidental brush, or at times it was something far stranger.

It was a look.

A mere moment of eye contact between us that held a weighted, almost building _heat_. It was intangible but present, real but inexplicable, like the bouncing waves over a flame. If we felt brazen enough we would let it grow, feeding it steadily; perhaps it was the curiosity in discovering what it was, or the peculiar vulnerability knights often feel during wartime, but we would look on without a word, our eyes sketching each other's features until there was no one except us, and the fire we had kindled.

Alas, all fires must be extinguished for fear of being burned, and that is exactly what Jane and I had done with our fire.

 _Our_ fire?Or was it just _my_ fire? Was it even possible that Jane noticed it too? This intensity between us in those moments, no matter how brief and trivial they may have appeared outwardly-could they have meant more to her? Or was I mad, haunted by fires that I could only see?

More importantly, did it matter?

Jane and I were brother-in-arms, surely there were rules somewhere in the Knight's Code of Honour about falling in love with a fellow knight? After all, we were meant to preserve the honour of our brothers and that of God. Would I be breaking my oath if I were to confess my feelings for Jane? Was it unnatural in the eyes of the Lord and my king? After all, I was expected to marry a lady-in-waiting, one who would wait at home, and birth my heirs; a woman of defined, delicate tastes-someone the complete opposite of Jane.

 _What would my father say?_

My response to that unwarranted question startles my horse, as I cannot not help but laugh aloud. I care little for what he would have to say on that matter, especially after last time, but would _Jane_ care? Her father and her had a much closer relationship than mine. I would not want to shame her relationships with my emotions.

A deep exhale escapes me; I press my lips together in a tight, thin line until they ache. Why did I insist on making everything so agonizing? Would it not have been easier to fall in love with a noblewoman?

' _Perhaps, but it would not have been half as fulfilling as falling for Jane Turnkey.'_

A rustle in the nearby brush startles me from my pensive state, and quickly I begin to draw my sword from my sheath, stopping my horse in his tracks with a tug of the reins. I stop to listen again, unable to see a thing in this bloody darkness-but there it was again. A rustle, much closer now than before.

"Who goes there?" My blade is quickly in my hand, positioned to strike when ready. "In the name of the king, show yourself."

Silence.

More rustling...then-

"Watch where you point that thing."

From a nearby shrubbery appears the moonlit figure of a blond man with a sturdy build, and a never changing countenance of seriousness.

"Smithy" I try not to sound so relieved. "What in bat bladders are you doing out so late in the night?"

"The night before a patrol is the best time to pick up logs for my arrows" he says as if it is only obvious, showing me the bundle of wood he is carrying in one arm (and would have taken both of mine to carry) with a shrug of his shoulder. "The horses tend to snap the best ones in half."

"Ah...well...do not stray too far off, the forest has been plagued by stray bandits after the war's end. It is best to keep within an ear's shot."

"Wise advice Gunther" Smithy replies, though if he was being sarcastic or honest I could not tell. He always seemed like a nice enough fellow to me, but it was difficult to know where the earnest behavior began and when it ended; I could have sworn I only saw three emotions emit from this man's body in my entire lifetime. Jane was far better at reading him, let alone communicating with him. She always surpassed me at socializing with others, one of the few details she bested me at, yet refused to rub in my face.

"I will take leave then" I say after a moment's silence, yet before I can startle my horse into action, and away from this awkward encounter I so desperately want to no longer be part of, Smithy clears his throat.

"If I may...share with you some wise advice of my own?"

Stunned twice in one night, how quaint. I take a second to look at him, eyes wide and far more attentive than I would have liked to have led on, but I could not contain my curiosity! Was he actually being serious? My mouth spreads into a humored smile, eyebrows raising expectantly. If Smithy and I had shared more than two sentences, it had been enough, and now he was going to give me _advice_? Perhaps he was spending too much time with Jester, for his sense of humor was of a strange sort.

"Go on" even my words are doused with amusement.

"Perhaps you should tell Jane how you feel instead of treating her like a child. I find it best for a man to be blunt and honest when it comes to such affairs."

Smithy should have really considered being a knight instead of a jester or a smith, with the way his words nearly knocked me off of my horse. After some uncomfortable fidgeting from my rouncy, I pat him until he calms, simultaneously trying to bounce back from the state of dumbfoundedness I myself was in.

"Smithy" with a surprisingly relaxed tone, I manage to smile " _Please_. Jane of all people? Of all _women_? I am not-"

"I am no fool Gunther" now it was his turn to look amused "I have seen both you and Jane training from none but ten feet away from my workstation now for the past twelve years. If there is anyone who can read your body language better than me, well, I would like to meet him."

I thought about lying-again-about playing it off or maybe walking away from the whole situation, but there was a certainty in his eyes that assured me he knew of the truth. He saw through me. Since Sir Ivon's passing, I had no one to confide in matters of...the heart, and God knows that I would never dare approach my father about such a subject after the first "incident". Maybe it had been all the years of repressed silence, or something in the air, because I thought that perhaps I could play it off tomorrow, walk away from it tomorrow, but tonight I decided to speak.

"It is...far more complicated than that."

"How so?" He tilts his head slightly to the side, similar to the queer way hunting dogs do when paying close attention.

"Jane is a knight, not a woman-"

"But she is a woman."

"Yes I know" must I always have a difficult time properly expressing myself? "But not just any woman, she is a knight also. And it is my sworn duty to protect my fellow knight's honor. I cannot...I _will not_ , risk dishonoring Jane by treating her any less than the knight she is."

Smithy's face contorts; his lips scrunching along with his forehead in a look of confusion. I make note of this new expression somewhere in the back of my mind.

"How would treating Jane like a woman diminish her worth? Is not the point of her being the first female knight to prove that way of thinking incorrect?" the looked fades as quickly as it came. "Gunther, treating Jane like a woman makes her no less of a knight, in the same way that she treats you like a man, and it does not make you less of a knight."

"She treats me like a man?" the joke is something of a defense mechanism (Jester is not the only one who can be funny you should know), as Smithy's words begin to make sense, but I know it cannot be that simple. He does not _truly_ understand.

He shakes his head, and in his expression I note a bit of humor mixed with distaste.

"Dishonoring Jane would be to think any less of her for being the woman she so clearly is" he takes a pause to transfer the logs from one arm to the other "And what is the point in keeping it a secret if you are just going to suffer through it? Or at least make it as obvious as you do."

"You must be one lucky man to never have to worry about rejection Smithy." ' _I do not make it obvious, do I?'_ I was beginning to work up a sheen of sweat, something my armor did not make any more pleasant. Was the night humid, or were Smithy's words putting me under pressure? In truth, a bit of both.

"If it is not rejection, then it will be something else. We will always have something to worry about" he says in that same, it-is-what-it-is tone. It irks me now.

"Others will not approve of it."

"They will not."

"They may make life harder on Jane."

"They always have before."

I scoff. It peeves me that Smithy has such a simplistic view on my problems, as if I were at fault for the situation Jane and I-or merely _I_ -was in. I try not to think less of him for it, but that part of my mind, the one I am trying to smother out of existence, did. It judged him for being nothing but a blacksmith, for not understanding the complexities behind being a knight, and the vows that came with my duty, for being a peasant folk and a farmer's son.

 _No_.

No, I was being haughty again, and there was little reason to be. I fought the urge to sound like my father, and in lieu of materializing those words I nod my head. It was not my most convincing act, but it would do.

"I will...consider your advice Smithy" I lie, as I have no plans to do such a thing. I want to cut this short. This encounter had been beyond uncomfortable. Still, I was trying to be considerate, or at least the closest emotion I could get to it.

The man stares at me, in that same manner he had this morning with a knowing in his eyes until finally he gives a shrug of a reply. It was good enough for him. He would not push the matter further.

"Goodnight Gunther."

"And you."

"Maggots" I hiss between my teeth as I fling the covers off my bed with more force than necessary. I did not bother to sit up, instead I rub at my temples in an attempt to soothe the numb throbbing that builds there. I rub and rub until I believe to have rubbed all the nearby hairs off, and still it was all for naught.

I cannot get Smithy's words out of my head!

I had tried all night to sleep, but every turn and reposition offered no solace. Was I angry still? Well yes-but at Smithy? I tried to contemplate it, to put my emotions in order. It could very well be that I felt embarrassed, and I did, in knowing that I was obvious enough to show my affections for Jane. Or perhaps it was his tone, the manner in which he trivialized my worries, that I found upsetting. But I could not shake off the feeling that there was still more to it than that.

Could it be...me?

My eyes shoot a quick glance at the view outside my chamber; it was still dark, the sun giving only a ghost of light. My mind does not take long in deciding to get out off bed, might as well have, as it did not seem likely that I would fall back asleep anytime soon. Although my knightly duties were not until much later, I dawn on my sabatons, greaves, and poleyns figuring it best to be prepared rather than regretful. From down the hall I can hear my father's snores, and with a blatancy that I did not dare demonstrate with him present, I shake my head in distaste. He could make horrid sounds even when asleep! It was a wonder how he did not wake the entire village.

As I descended the stairs, the corner of my eye catches the figure of our house maiden, an old woman who walks slow, quiet steps but has the sly smile of a child. The ridge where her eyebrows used to be, raise, giving me a look as if she could read my thoughts. With a trembling hand she hands me a small loaf of bread, buttered and salted and went off without a word. When I was younger I thought her presence to be eerie-there were even times where I believed her to be a witch, but now after putting my childish tendencies aside I found we shared a common hobby that made us quite a match-the daily scrutinizing of my father.

The loaf warms my throat, a feeling which I invite against the cool, morning breeze. The town is quiet, the castle more so. I am unsure of what my actual motive is once I reach the training grounds, after all I just needed a walk or task that could clear my head, but now as I draw nearer, I find myself pacing; my feet kicking up dirt with my small, agitated steps.

Was it possible, even minutely so, to have a future with Jane like Smithy said? After all, it is not as if the king hated her in any way. Jane finds much favor with his majesty; she has served dutifully for many years...it would not be in distaste for us to- _'no! No, Gunther this is exactly why you came outside to begin with, so that you would not think of these things.'_

I take a large, angry bite off the loaf, chewing with equal fervor. It would be best to set the entire matter aside, after all what were a couple years more of repression? The heavens themselves knew that if I had the strength to endure my childhood in silence, I had the ability to endure this.

"Gunther?"

Someone...somewhere hated me, I was sure of it. They had chanted a hex or given me the evil eye for me to have been cursed with this bad luck. Though I have too many enemies to know exactly who it is.

"Jane" my voice is steady, as if I expected to see her, though it was quite the opposite. She is wearing a dark tunic, a simple and oversized get up that I am sure has seen one too many days; I try not to notice how it clings to parts of her skin. Even in the dim daylight I can see she is breathing heavily, a sheen layer of sweat glistening on her skin.

"What on Earth are you doing here at this time of the day?" she asks between huffs.

' _Trying to not think of you.'_

"Eating" I point at the remaining bread in my hand, and cast her a look that is meant to make her feel like an idiot. I am sure I have perfected several of those looks by now.

"I can see that" she mutters sardonically, one side of her lip twitches like it sometimes does when she is bitter with me. "I mean, why are you here?"

"Come now Jane" I feign a hurt expression as I step closer; I know I should _not_ be doing so, but I cannot help myself around her, there is just a pull to her that I am keen to follow. "Is this not my training ground also? I know you live here, but I did not know it was off limits for others to come visit." I take a pause to cast her a once-over, noticing along the way how her muscles tense under my gaze. "I suppose the real question would be why you look such a mess so early morn?"

"Oh. Dragon" she says with simplicity, as if that alone is enough to make sense to me-which it does. "Though you should not act so smugly, you do not appear to look any better weasel-breath. Did you even sleep at all?"

I scowl deeply and with my usual quickness, draw the mask I have learned to wear all my life over my face; Jane has the ability to catch me off guard, but no more than I would ever allow her to. Without answering her question, I take the last bite of my roll and walk toward the archery range, signaling her to follow suit. No longer is it just composed of a simple target worn from years of service; the success of the war had brought the king many spoils from the monarchy of Essex, and he chose to do what he always did with gold-spend it. Luckily enough for us, the king had tipped his kind hand in our favor, buying new swords, steels, targets, arrows, practically anything he felt would give an appearance of power. As a knight I appreciated the gesture, as the son of a businessman I saw the benefit in the powerplay, as a man...well those thoughts would best be kept private.

"You are very right Jane" I finally say once I am able to speak without food in my mouth, my hand trailing the length of a sturdy arrow "I did not. The village girls can be so needy at almost any hour" I shoot her a quick wink, and again, watch as her face begins to redden in hue; her nose pinches in a tight manner.

"Well your language appears to be very awake Gunther. Now then, I will leave you to it-"

I give way to short chuckle, shaking my head at her usual, bristled behavior. "Come now Jane, do not be so cross. Humor me a while."

It is something I know I should not be saying. I should not be asking her to stay when all I have ever wanted her to do last night was to be as far away from my mind as possible. Yet, when she is here, looking at me with those questioning eyes, my mind seems to lose certain specifics. It is rather funny, the way Jane manages to cloud my mind and clear it all at once. There is a certain freedom in this haze of hers; if for a moment I am no longer a knight looking for his next point, trying to find a purpose in a series of steps, moreover, I am a man somewhat lost and unaware and free to wander.

When she does not say anything I smile and place a bow in her hands. "How about a shot, for old time's sake?"

Jane scoffs, her eyes rolling with equal uninterest. "Gunther, you know I am not... _well defined_ in archery."

'Not well defined' was her polite way of saying completely and utterly unskilled in; strangely, she always somehow seemed to 'forget' the word when it came to describing my shortcomings. Though she was not technically wrong, Jane's arms were far too weak to pull back the string of a bow with accuracy; she also lacked the adaptability it took to move ones aim and position quickly and constantly. Sir Theodore had once assigned me the task of being her mentor in the subject-the lessons did not last. It was...a sour spot for her.

"Nonsense Jane, I will assist you."

This for some reason makes her laugh, her calloused hands coming to rest on her flushed cheek while a piggish snort or two escape. I bite my lower lip to stop myself from smiling at the sound.

"And just what is so funny?"

"You cannot honestly expect me to believe that you will want to help me after last time?"

"Would you call me so selfish Jane? If I remember correctly, it was you who lost her patience and quit her lessons"

"You do not remember correctly."

I ignore her, but there was an irked undertone to my voice "Well, what about the time I helped you find Cleppa after you scared her off with your yelling?"

"True-"

"Or the time you begged me to ask my father for an extra order of the foreign spices for Dragon's meal?"

"I would not say begged is the right word-"

"Or-"

"Fine, fine. I see your point well enough Gunther" she sighs, looking tired for the first time this morning. "Perhaps...I am still being unfair with you after all these years. You have" she pauses as she always does when nitpicking for the right words to use "been quite supportive."

I knew she meant 'supportive' in more than a menial sense; much like me, Jane had grown aware of our constant need for one another during harsher, more critical times-though in moments such as this, during a quiet relief, we were able to forget those things. We rarely spoke of wartime unless it was necessary; we preferred it that way, because for at least an instance, we were just Jane and Gunther, knights of Kippernia and long time rivals who could bicker about trivial issues such as archery lessons. It was...an escape we shared.

I prep the arrow into its position on the bow and scoff.

"Well do not get too soft on me Jane, I was merely offering to help improve your 'not well defined' skills. It is early. I am bored. You are awake." _No one else seems to be around to disturb._ "Simple as that."

"Thank you. Your words are most encouraging" as was her natural gift, Jane is able to keep a perfect tone of sarcasm even through her struggles with the weapon I place in her hand. "Tsk. I can barely see past my own nose Gunther, perhaps it would be best to try this at another time?"

She was right, the sunlight that did peek through the morning was far too dim to show much of anything, but some silhouettes and faint colors. Yet I needed this excuse to keep her here; it had been far too long since Jane and I were able to spend time alone together; with the spoils of war also came the routine of our previous schedules, and no need for us to make long voyages with each other. It made the days a bit longer, less interesting.

"Is that an excuse I hear Jane Turnkey?"

She huffs a response, takes her stance and shoots; from the sound of metal against stone, we knew it had missed completely.

"Champion shot Jane" I smirk. She glares my way. "If I may let you in on a little secret? The point of archery is to _hit_ the target."

"Very funny" she sets another arrow into place and I place my hand on her shoulder.

"Your stance is all wrong, lower this arm-no lower" my hand guides her arm with a gentle push. "You also need to pull the string back further." I could see her muscles begin to tense with the strain of strength. Since Jane had never taken to archery, the king had never ordered a bow to be made for her size. I believe Sir Ivon tried once, only to break it shortly after. He always did have a delicate hand with building.

Jane's arm began to tremble.

"Are you sure you can handle this bow? Perhaps-"

"I can do it."

"Of course" I allowed myself a smile, because of course she could-she was Jane Turnkey. "Just a bit more to the left, your feet are far too apart-yes just like that, now your shoulders, relax them-no _relax_ Jane" I try not exhale too loudly, knowing it might stir her ire. Perhaps Jane was right, I may not be a very patient instructor. "No...here...like this" gingerly I place my hands on her shoulders, checking for any resistance from Jane, though when she shows none I begin to move them downward. "Like so...then bring your elbow here" my hand brushes along her skin from one place to another, indicating where she should go. Jane only turns her head ever so slightly in response, her eyes looking my way. Anyone looking may have noticed nothing out of the usual, but there was that familiar spark.

Did she see it too?

"Yes, this stance will have to do" I said briefly after noticing we had remained silent and staring, Jane seems to snap out of her own trance, though I do my best to not try and bring attention to it. My eyes try to focus heavily onto the target, though I do not know if it is the dim light or my nerves, but I swear I cannot see a thing. "Go ahead."

The arrow makes its usual hum as it rips through the air, a sudden 'thump' indicating it had landed.

"Did it land on the target?"

"I believe so" I shake my head "but we better keep practicing on your stance until it becomes natural for you. Try again." She grabs another arrow without grumbling this time. "Yes that is a vast improvement, champion posture." She tries to hide it, but there was a shine in her eye that hints a swell of pride, like it always did when she was praised for her skills. "Do not let it go to your head" I tease quickly.

"I have not said a word" she refutes, though there was that tint to her cheeks. I watch in silence as she shoots an arrow, a satisfying 'thump' following closely behind. We repeat this process for quite some time in silence.

"Much improved Jane, though there still lies tension in your shoulders" I try to re-position them again but Jane's mane greets me first, a wild curl flicking at my nose. "And it would be best to tie this mess back Jane, unless you enjoy the feeling of a breeze on a bald spot after and arrow catches a piece of hair." I smile at whatever quick witted reply she throws back at me, while moving my fingers around the knot of the ribbon I have around my hair; with quick ease I untie it, raising a brow at the way Jane eyes my loose ends.

"Jealous Jane?" She mumbles something indiscernible (mumbling was a talent of hers I have discovered), hey eyes skittering away with a shyness I was not used to seeing. "Quite alright, not everyone can be blessed with perfect hair."

"Tsk. Perfect hair on such an imperfect person."

This I laughed at without reserve; she never did allow me the final word. Jane stood perfectly still as I ran my fingers along her hair; how I hated it as a child, but now I could not imagine Jane Turnkey without it. I was accustomed to the smell of soot and crisp leaves; sometimes when the winter was harsh, and Jane was bundled closely next to me for warmth, her curls would brush against my face, her head nestled near my neck, and that feeling alone would lull me into a calm sleep.

Touching it now rekindled the memory, and I was careful to not spend too much time trying to fix each curl into place. "There you are. Not everything is salvageable...sadly, but I did try my best." I shoot her a coy smirk, ready to grab an arrow for myself when-unexpectedly Jane catches my hand in hers. I look at her once more, half expecting her to demand for me to remove the ribbon, but she just stares, her eyes shining a brilliant green and looking bigger than I had ever seen them. I can feel a distant drumming in my ears.

"Gunther…" my name comes out of her lips like a supplication. I wait for her to continue, but she stands there, the next word caught somewhere between her teeth. The drumming quickens.

"Jane?"

"I-" she swallows, her mouth struggling but her eyes looking right into mine, _begging_ , but for what? I did not look away this time, I would not let this simmering escape me again; I clutch onto it until it becomes a blazing fire; the kind we have tried to stifle for so many years. I will gladly suffocate if need be.

Reflexively my face draws closer to hers. The blur of the fire does not let me see clearly, but I can feel her warm breath on my neck. Does she see it too? _She has to._ I know she must, the manner in which she was staring at me now...this familiar look, I know I had not just imagined it...

"...Yes Jane?" Although it was just a whisper, I heard the hint of desperation in my voice. _Please just say it for the both us of...if you could merely let me know, so I will not continue suffering in silence._

Perhaps it was then, somewhere in the midst of my mind, or in the tone of my voice that I realized I did not care what stood between us. I did not care if Jane's mother disapproved, or if the king was displeased-or if we had to leave this bloody castle and never look back-I would have surrendered anything else in that moment to hear Jane say those words that have clutched my being for so long. I would have let this flame between us burn this castle to the ground.

There is...a pause, and then the shine leaves her eyes, and she smiles a small, shallow smile that could have ripped me into pieces if I had allowed it to. "I have missed every mark it seems."

"What?"

Jane's eyes dart toward the target; she is refusing to meet my gaze once more. With a single show of resistance she smothers it out completely, leaving me with a pile of ashes. I suck in a quick breath, my mask steeling my face into a cool exterior. "Oh...yes" light had began to show, and now one could see the arrows had hit the target, but barely so; they decorated the edges in a messy ensemble, not a one coming close to the core.

I frown.

" _Jay-ne_ " Dragon's nasally voice rings through the castle, stirring the birds from the trees. Soon the big lizard descends from the sky, making a clumsy landing on the stone wall, and giving me enough time to build a space between her and me. "Come now Jane, I think you have had more than enough time to rest."

"Dragon-" Jane's voice was breathless, almost guilty as if she had been caught in something, but the beast does not appear to notice. Expressionless, I glance at him, but inside I was never more happy to see him in my life. I do not know what I would have done with myself just then.

"-Ah, Ah, Ah Jane" he continued, wagging an index finger at her in such a humanly way "you promised me we would visit all of the new farms from the King's new lands. Thus far we have only visited three and only seen twenty-one cows. That is not enough cows to see Jane! Not when I know there are many more cows out there to meet!"

"Yes..but…"

"Jane" his voice is stern now "you promised."

Jane shakes her head. She must have sensed something different (probably the fact that her curls did not brush against her ears), because she touches the ribbon holding her hair in place.

"Oh yes, right. Let me return this-"

"Nonsense Jane. You may keep it."

She casts me a surprised glance, her mouth pinched. "Are you...quite sure Gunther?"

I shrug, managing a smile that felt like something close to genuine. "Come now Jane, no need to fret, I own several more. Plus" I gesture to the target with a quick nod of my head "it may help you with some much needed archery training. God knows you are in dire need of it."

Dragon snorts. "You will not let that short-life talk to you in that manner right Jane? Tell him exactly where to put that ribbon!"

Jane stands there, looking at me again, yet this time I do not allow myself to see much beyond that. My mask remains.

She smiles. "Thank you."

"Yeah and you can-! Wait, what?" Dragon shakes his head in disbelief. Jane runs to him, not looking back. "Why are you thanking him?"

"Come on Dragon, we have cows to scare" her hand pat at his neck, a gentle cue for him to rise. Dragon sighs but complies, his wings blowing up the dirt and dust around him with every motion.

"I will never understand you short-lives."

Ironically enough, neither do I.

If anything felt normal that morning it was the constant clanging noise, and heat of Smithy's forge. He appears so entranced in his work that I had to cough to get his attention.

"Gunther!" he spoke my name with a level of surprise, setting down his hammer to wipe away the grime around his hands, though making it worse in the process.

"Smithy I-"

"-No please, let me speak first."

I nod and sheath my sword from my previous Pell training. I force myself to not shift in place. I think I knew what was coming next, though I was not too thrilled by it.

"I wanted to apologize" he says with a somber sigh "I was out of line yesterday. It was...not my place to say such things."

I shake my head, giving him a tired smile. "No need Smithy."

"No really Gunther, I must have given an impression of ignorance, which is unlike me. Sometimes I just say what I think, my honesty is to a fault I suppose. Even Pig has caught the brunt of it sometimes" He gives a sheepish smile that appears out of place for such a strong man.

"'Blunt honesty', well, who am I of all people to judge you for it?" I stroke a sore spot on my forearm, hesitating enough to ask myself if I want to continue. "If anything, I am rather grateful...your words helped me see clearly Smithy. I see now that the...feelings...I carry for Jane are inevitable. It is not something I can merely brush aside, and rejection...may not the monster I feared it was. I still find myself worrying about other things." I chuckle in spite of myself.

"I hope you find whatever solace you are looking for Gunther" he says in perhaps the most genuine way I had ever heard a human speak. "Perhaps it is not as simple as I believed it to be, but I do hope you find it."

"Perhaps it is not that difficult either" the admission feels relieving, another inch off of my shoulders. "I will not know until I make that step."

Smithy nods understandingly, his smile albeit faint, holds a hint of faith. I clear my throat, my back straightening into my usual, revered pose.

"Well enough about feelings for one day, let us leave that talk to the women" Smithy shakes his head, clearly amused yet non-surprised by my reversal. "I came here to ask for a favor from you as a smith."

"Is that so? I will admit Gunther, the king has kept me rather busy, but depending on your request, I may be able to oblige."

"I need a bow, one suited for a woman."

"Why do I feel as if I have heard this before?" Smithy asked in a disconcerted tone, though it was not much of a genuine question and more of a suspicious concern. "Last I remember it, you and Jane given up on archery training" the frown on his face demonstrated that he too remembered the episode quite clearly.

"Yes but I am giving it another try, one does not always find gold his first time you know. She will learn to enjoy in time, with more practice."

"If you would allow me to be frank with you again Gunther, and I mean this in no disrespect to your or Jane, but I do not think anyone can teach her to enjoy archery."

I shoot him a wry smirk, my arms crossing in front of me confidently.

"Would you like to make a bet on that?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Well isn't this LONG overdue LOL :'D I'm going to just outright say why this damn chapter took me so long, but I don't want it to sound like an excuse, moreover, just an explanation. So this chapter wasn't exactly suppose to exist, in its place was another I had written and re-written (about 3 or 4 times) about a year ago, but admittedly I hated it. I just was not comfortable enough posting it, and it agitated me enough that I just let the project go for a bit; fast forward to a week later and my iPad (what I had been using at the time to write) completely breaks. By this time I was so fed up with both things (the story and the iPad) that I just did not find it in me to keep writing this. I'm...not quite sure what brought this chapter on, it may have been me re-reading some reviews or a stray epiphany, but I decided to try again!

Since this chapter was never originally even made to be written for this story, you might note that it does have a different feel, length and tone than the others, and I do apologize for that! But today I went to finally get my iPad fixed, and when I skimmed over what I had written a year ago, I can plainly say that this is far more satisfying to me as a whole (yes even a year later I still hate that chapter! LOL). Ms. Amelle Kyre was hoping that I would write something a little lighter-and I did try I promise! but I'm just an angsty type of writer I suppose ; u;-still I wanted to portray a bit of hope in Gunther's situation, where he did not take Jane's rejection as a be-all end-all, but more of an 'I tried, and I can see it's just not the right time, and that's...OK. I'm OK, you're OK.' I also took the chance to really bring out the familiar side of both characters again, I didn't want Gunther and Jane to stay as these solemn adults who are so scarred by war that they can never find a moment of solace in the simpler things in life. I want a bit more complexity and contradictions than that.

Anyway, I'm sorry for the mini rant and I do hope you enjoyed this! I still thank all of you who reviewed previously and encourage you to review again if your time permits! Thank you, thank you.


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